


Simple Pleasures

by wingeddserpent



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-23
Updated: 2011-07-23
Packaged: 2017-10-21 16:43:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/227369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingeddserpent/pseuds/wingeddserpent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair doesn't know what he'd do without Duncan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simple Pleasures

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Duncan/Alistair: hurt/comfort - The Joining

( _mouths gaping and full of teeth, but it’s the eyes, watching him, always watching, and they see him, recognize him as ‘brother’, garbled guffaws, and he can’t escape, but he wants to run—_ )

When he wakes, panting and cheeks tear-wet, Duncan is there, grave as ever. “Awaken, Alistair,” he says.

Alistair sits up, trembling like a leaf. “What was that?” he asks, scrambling for some sort of snippy reply, but can’t find the words or the energy. “What happened?”

“The Joining gives us insight to the Darkspawn collective mind. That is what you saw,” he replies.

(He remembers—there had been something looming in the distance, something he couldn’t really see, but it had filled him with the sort of dread you hear about sometimes from people who have seen a lot, people like Duncan, but there aren’t words to give that thing substance.)

The stars above twinkle merrily—and for the first time, he understands that fear of the unknown, of things crawling out of the holes of the sky and coming down to enact their hateful vengeance. He’d thought dwarves crazy—but he was wrong. There’s something to be said of a fear of the darkness, of vastness. But he’s a part of the darkness now, to be released only in death. “How often? Does it happen, I mean?”

“It depends,” Duncan answers after a moment’s pause, “For some, every time they close their eyes. Others have the taint’s effects muted. You shall have to see.”

Alistair nods, numbly, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“Here, drink. It will take off the edge,” he says.

With another nod, Alistair takes the proffered canteen and drains it, startling at the taste of ale on his tongue. Its heady taste fills the darkness with something warmer and he shuts his eyes, letting himself enjoy it. If his life from now on is to be a nightmare, he’d best learn to enjoy what he can. “It doesn’t have to be painful at all times. Take heart in your brothers and camaraderie. Take heart in the simple pleasures, for there will be few others to be had,” Duncan says.

“Thank you, Duncan,” Alistair says, looking up him, “Really. You’ve been—”

Words fail him, but he swears he can see Duncan’s fleeting ghost-smile. “Come, eat,” Duncan says, and they head to the mess hall together.


End file.
